


Titanic

by Newtexe (ArcMages)



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, RMS Titanic, if you know the story of titanic you know who dies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-11-03 21:45:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17885774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcMages/pseuds/Newtexe
Summary: In which Newt Dawson has nothing but a sketchbook and Thomas Bukater has had quite enough with his life.





	1. Lucky Card

The tavern was tense. A pack of men gathered around a single table, watching anxiously. Some had their hands stuffed into their pockets, scratching their beards, holding back their greed and jealously. At the table, four men sat in two pairs. But all eyes were on a single man with messy, blonde hair; round, brown eyes; and a thin frame. He wore simple loose clothes from shoulder to ankles. But perhaps his most prominent article was the gray hat that never seemed to fall off from his head. Some might mistaken him for a young teenager for his youthful features. Well, he technically was fresh of graduating from being one at twenty-years-old.

A series of cards were spread out facing up across the table, forming two parallel lines. Each line belonging to one of the either teams that was playing. Right now, the game was in a tight situation. They had been going back and forth between passing the win card and it certainly had everyone on edge. And the card in the blonde man's hand was the deciding fate.

There was a moment of silence as the spotlighted male slowly flipped around the card he between two fingers. Upon his lips, a visible smirk emerged. At any moment now, the fate of four men would be decided. It all depended on this one card. And only the blonde man knew his fate before anyone else did.

A series of gasps was let out as the card was suddenly turned around to reveal itself. There wasn't even a second to contain himself after that. The young man jumped up from his seat and let out a holler of spirit. As his friend let out an exasperated gasp, he gave him a heavy pat on the back in excitement. 

"WE WON! WE GOT IT!" The man shouted, throwing his fists into the air. 

And without wasting another second, he grabbed the two rectangular sheets of printed paper which were settled on the table with the cards, crushing them in his hand. He gave his friend, who had gotten ahold of both of their bags, a nod and the two darted out of the tavern, shoving past the crowd of people with force pulled straight from their elated hearts. They didn't care how rude it was or how foolhardy they appeared.

"So long sucker! Thanks for the tickets!" 

The words had slipped past the man's lips and he bursted into laughter. His friend laughed along with him. As their leather-covered feet came in contact with the beating sun, they ran as fast as they could possibly go across the boardwalk which was populated with people of all classes, rich and poor, to say their goodbyes. They hustled through couples giving sobbing kisses, families giving last hugs, and partners tipping their hats.

The man's name was Newt Dawson. His friend was Gally Fabrizio. And their destinies had been determined by the single flip of a card. For by mere chance and wit, they could now board the passage to freedom and opportunity. They could ride on the mark of history itself: the Titanic. 

And boy, were they drowning in euphoria.

 

On the ship just a few minutes later, the two had made their way to the deck where much of the passengers were gathered at the moment. They had made it in the nick of time to board. The ship hadn't yet left the dock so this was where everyone was waving off their final moments in France. With their hearts still pounding, they pushed though the crowd as if making their way to the border at a concert. Newt latched his hands onto the bar first, he then took Gally's hand pulled him beside him. Together, they tossed their hands into the air at the people below them who waved back. They weren't waving at anyone in particular. They didn't know anyone below the ship. But they waved anyway out of sheer joy.

Newt stepped onto the lower bar of the railing to elevate himself. "WE'RE FREE! Off to New York we go!" He hollered. With the wind pushing against his clothes and through his hair, he felt free. He felt unstoppable. And with that, the ship started to move slowly. Their journey was just beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited for this story! I haven't checked if the idea has already been done though.


	2. Family Law

A rich man shouldn't be reckless. It would be a disgrace to the family name to take off your shoes and simply dance by kicking your feet and spinning around as the lower class did. A polite, elegant man should offer his hand to the lady for a dance and then do so while holding her gently. He should keep his eyes in the lady's and look for her heart. Even, if the lady wasn't to his attractions. A man must always be grateful for any lady he is given. For every lady from the rich class was clean and gorgeous.

That was the rule book.

Thomas cuffed up the long sleeves of his shirt and adjusted the bowtie on his collar. He took one last look at himself in the mirror to make sure not a single part of his clothes was wrinkled before exiting the room. In the hallway, he came face to face with his father who praised him for his handsome he looked. He was then led to the ship's gourmet dining restaurant.

There, he was met by another family who stood at the doors. They must've have arrived first. Thomas wondered how long they have been waiting for him, if he kept them for long. 

His father realized this and immediately bowed. "Excuse us for arriving late. Did we keep you waiting long?" 

"Oh of course not. Don't you worry about it, we just showed up also!" An unfamiliar women said.

Thomas presumed she was the mother or aunt of the girl he was about to meet. And that girl... Must've been the one standing off to the side with neatly straightened, shiny black hair that ran over her chest. She wore a simple, yet still fancy dress and seemed to have a great deal of makeup covering her features for she had absolutely no imperfections. 

Thomas' eyes met hers for a quick moment. She smiled at him but then they quickly turned their attentions to the doors as they were opened by a butler who then led them to their large, clothed dining table. The two families insisted the girl and him sat across from each other near the edge of the table so they could get acquainted with each other.

Thomas pulled out the chair for her. She thanked him with her soothing yet slightly husk voice and sat down. He then pulled out his own chair and sat across from her as his father had said to do. The menus arrived before they could introduce themselves, which was perfectly timed considering Thomas' still wasn't sure what to say to her yet. 

As his eyes ran over the menu which included a multitude of assortments like seafood, pasta, and chocolate, he prepared himself to greet her with the most friendly yet still formal tone he could. He had rehearsed this since settling in his room on the ship a few hours ago. After the waiter took orders, in which he ordered a croque-monsieur and she ordered a caesar salad, they then introduced themselves.

"I'm sure you've already heard, my name is Thomas Bukater. It's a pleasure to meet you, Teresa Agnes." He started.

"Oh, you don't have to be so formal." Teresa said with a hand wave, which she then realized was out of line so she put her hand down into her lap. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Thomas. Looks like we're due to have a pleasant day together today."

There was something about Teresa that Thomas had caught on quite quickly. She also wasn't so used to being formal and elegant either as said by the way she often adjusted herself in her seat and brought her back up when realizing she slumped. It was amusing. He wanted to ask her about it but now wasn't the time, in front of their parents. And so, he continued on with the rehearsed script and asked her simple questions with enthusiasm comparing to as if they were parents meeting at a bus stop. And when the food arrived, they talked less. It was a great escape to avoid more awkward conversation.

After the lunch, the two waved off their parents as they stood side by side at the door which lead outside to the deck. Their parents seemed rather pleased with their act so they had played it off worked just fine. When the adults turned their backs to head down the stairs, Thomas opened the door for Teresa, letting in the salty air.

Outside, they stood against the railing together, under the shade, and looked out to the blue, glittering ocean. It was beautiful, Thomas had to admit. Teresa's hair blew in the wind, she pulled it back around her ear to prevent any tangles.

"You don't seem to be the type who's good at being formal." Teresa said abruptly. She had cut the well-mannered act.

Thomas chuckled. "Neither do you."

"Ugh, I hate it." Teresa groaned. "Honestly, I'm sick of having to act all polite and put together. Sometimes I just want to go out without any makeup or doing my hair and just do the normal things any other lower class person would do." 

And just about all around the dock, were people of all classes doing "normal things." A father held his child up on his shoulders. Teenagers giggled together and occasionally flirtatiously touched each other. A woman wrote in her journal on a bench. 

And a young man with messy blonde hair sat alone, drawing in a sketchbook.

Were these the "normal things" that Teresa wanted to do?

"I couldn't agree anymore." Thomas said.

But they both knew that their ideals would never be fulfilled. For being born in the rich class meant there were certain laws to abide by. Thomas found himself wondering what other "normal things" middle class and under did if they didn't go out for tea every two seconds and spent hours preparing their clothes for the day.

Oh, how he wished he could just be normal.


	3. A Sketch

The slight sound of scratches could be heard as Newt carefully slid the pencil led across the thick, tanned paper. He sat on a bench with one leg crossed over the other, resting his hold on the sketchbook. The sunlight beamed down onto the water, reflecting it. It was a bit blinding but made for perfect contrast in light and shade. 

His brightened brown eyes trailed up to the couple who leaned their arms against the railing. They looked out to the vast sea and occasionally, each other. Their black hair blew in the wind, making it hard to capture onto the paper. But that part would just have to be improvised.

From the angle he was sitting at, he couldn't see the man's face since he often looked in the opposite direction towards the girl. And she was pretty, no doubt. 

But there was something Newt noticed about her that had his suspicions raised. The girl didn't smile so much, she seemed to be talking about something that had bothered her from the way her eyes curved downwards. 

Newt had always been an observer ever since he picked up the pencil for the first time. He studied people's expressions, face and body, and drew them down onto paper. While he wasn't particularly the best at reading literature, he could interpret people's feelings well. By the way the couple stood an awkward distance away from each other and didn't make easy eye contact, they seemed to be unfamiliar with each other, yet still acquainted.

The voice of his friend interrupted his thoughts. Gally casted a shadow over the paper, which made it easier to look up at him since he was blocking out the sun. "Newt, wanna head over to the pub? I found some boys who got some cash from some trunk." He smiled proudly as if he had found treasure himself.

"Sure," Newt replied. "Give me just a moment. I have to finish my..." He took a look at the couple to see that the girl had left the man to talk to another girl with long, brown hair. She pulled her hair behind her ear shyly. 

"On another thought, yeah. Let's go." Newt finished and stood up, leaving the unfinished drawing on the bench. He tucked the pencil behind his ear and followed his friend down a flight of stairs on the deck. They couldn't take the doors he sat next to since that was reserved for the upper class.

In the lower decks where the lower and middle class hung out, it was more crowded of people and certainly rowdy. And the lower you went down the series of decks, the louder they got. When the two arrived at the bar, Gally called out to the supposed man who had some cash from a trunk. Newt followed him, slipping through the crowds of (mostly) men who held their drinks up, reeked of smoke, and laughed like hogs. But despite the stigma that the lower class was made up of savages, Newt could feel the prosperity filling the room. And it was overwhelming.

"Alby, this is Newt. Newt, this is Alby." Gally introduced his two acquaintances. 

Alby sat at the bar with a few other friends who all seemed to be enjoying themselves. He held out a sweaty hand, "Yo, Newt. A strange name you got there."

Newt smiled and took his hand. "If it makes up for my strange name, my last name is Dawson."

"Dawson?! Damn. What are you, prince of the northfolk?" Alby let out a cackle which his friends reciprocated. 

"He's got a handsome face too. No homo though." A man behind Alby remarked. He had curly, blonde hair and a pudgy face. "I'm Zart. Nice to meet ya. Alby here stole a whole wad of cash!"

"Shut it man." Alby retorted back. "I didn't steal it. More of just finders keepers. You tell people I steal one more time, I'm taking that drink back!" 

He then looked at Gally and Newt. "Alright, now what drinks do you want? Let's celebrate our arrival on the Titanic 'till midnight!"

The two looked at each other and happily agreed. They squeezed themselves next to Alby at the counter and ordered their drinks.

 

Meanwhile, the man who had been left alone by the girl sat on the bench. He buried his face into his hands and took in a deep breath of the crisp air. A sound of crinkling caught his attention. He looked off to the side and noticed a crumpled up paper at the edge of the bench. Curious, he swiped at it before it could fly away, and opened it. What he saw, had him caught off guard.

An unfinished sketch of him and the girl at the railing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having so much fun writing this! It's pretty relaxing since I'm not reaching any high word count and just having easy, short chapters.


	4. Drunk Men

Thomas pulled up the cuffs of his sleeves and straightened his tie. In front of the vanity mirror, his hands slid across the smooth wooden surface of the drawer. It then came in contact with a crumbled-up paper which he unrolled to take one last look at the drawing edged in it.

A part of him desperately wanted to find out who had drawn it. Who had been watching him and Teresa out on the deck. The idea was a bit creepy but also gracious. But Thomas had to admit to himself, it was a good drawing despite being unfinished. He tried to think back to the moment when he took a look around himself with Teresa. He recalled someone sitting on the bench where the drawing was but he couldn't recreate the face. The most he remembered might've been the blonde hair of a male. But maybe it wasn't blonde. He just couldn't remember something so insignificant.

A knock at the door of his room caused him to flinch a bit. 

"Thomas. Are you ready?" His father called from the hallway in a serious tone.

"Yes, I am!" Thomas called back. He then folded the paper and stuck it in his pocket. He took one last look in the mirror before opening the door and meeting up face to face with his impatient father.

Dinnertime rolled around. And as usual, Thomas had gathered with his family and Teresa's to enjoy a feast in the gourmet dining restaurant. This would become a daily thing. No, more of an hourly thing. Once again, Teresa and Thomas sat across from each other. 

After ordering their selected course, Teresa started to talk of a girl she had met earlier who's name was Brenda. Thomas had saw the girl she spoke of, after all, he was left alone because Teresa had excused herself to talk to that girl. She spoke of how nice and chill Brenda was and how she secretly wanted to meet up with her after the dinner.

Thomas and Teresa were due to an extended date scheduled by their parents after dinner. But perhaps if Teresa really wanted to see Brenda, then perhaps something could be worked out. Thomas suggested that they could walk out to the deck together then she could go off and meet Brenda. Teresa agreed with quite the enthusiasm and even thanked him.

Thomas gave her a smile in return. But inside, he wished he had Teresa's company after dinner. He had no other friends, or acquaintances, to spend time with. And making friends wasn't exactly his forté either. He felt a bit jealous inside.

Once the dinner had come to an end, Thomas and Teresa walked out to the deck after waving good-bye to their parents. Thomas held her hand to make the act more convincing and it certainly worked.

The deck wasn't completely empty of people. There were sparse couples who were taking romantic walks out under the moonlight. Thomas and Teresa could have been one of them. But they weren't. Heading out to the main deck at the front of the ship, Teresa let go of his hand and waved at a female figure who stood against the railing. 

The girl came up to the two and gave Teresa a hug. Thomas found it somewhat magical that girls were able to bond so quickly after meeting. 

"Who's this?" Brenda asked. She wore a loose dress which blew in the wind along with her back-length hair.

"This is Thomas," Teresa introduced him. "We're being set up by our parents."

Brenda rose a brow. "Really? That sucks."

Thomas wasn't sure what to say to that. He didn't feel any attraction towards Teresa but he didn't want to say that it wasn't really working out yet because there was a chance that it could. But if Teresa would rather see her friend over him, he figured the set-up was gearing more away than to.

"Anyways, let's go, Brenda." Teresa said. She then waved at Thomas who waved back awkwardly and watched as the two went off, leaving him behind. 

Now alone, Thomas walked over to the edge of the railing where he looked out to the rushing water. He wished he had friends. But how does one even start to get acquainted and then form that bond?

"Let's go rob a few more trunk yaa?!"

He turned around at the sound of a couple men who were hooting and hollering, disrupting the peace of the night. From the looks of it, they appeared to be of the lower class who had wandered into the wrong part of the deck, the area which was reserved only for the upper class. If they were caught here by any upper class person, they could get in serious trouble.

Thomas ran over to the figures. It seemed to be just two, one was holding the other's weight on his shoulder as if he were holding a wounded man. 

"Uhm, excuse me?" He said, approaching them. He couldn't see their faces so well in the dark.

"You!" One of them spat, "You filthy rich class fucks! You think you're better than us?" He seemed very clearly drunk by the way his words ran over each other.

"Quiet down! Do you want us to be reported?!" The other sound whispered at him rather loudly. He spoke in a british accent.

"Do you need help?" Thomas asked, ignoring what the drunk man had said. 

"No no, we're all good." The british one said. But he then stumbled over his own feet, causing both him and his friend to fall to the floor, creating a thump sound. Clearly, he was a little tipsy too.

Thomas kneeled down before them. "Yeah, I'm gonna help you out." He held out a hand to the more sober man.

The man took his hand and pulled himself up clumsily, almost colliding into him. Their faces were a mere couple of inches away. His breath smelled of alcohol. But it was then Thomas got a clear view of his face. Doe eyes and a messy blonde hair, he looked awfully youthful. But what really stood out was the hat he wore, it looked familiar...

The man spun around and grabbed his friend's hand. "C'mon Gally. Let's go, shall we?"

Thomas then took the other hand of the man who is supposedly "Gally" and pulled him up.

Gally stumbled but managed to hold himself up on his feet. "Ya know, maybe you richies aren't as bad as I thought?"

"Shut it," the blonde man said. 

Thomas and the young-looking man dragged Gally back to the part of the deck where the lower class were permitted. And with some force, they sat him down on the bench. Gally then lied down and fell into some sort of half-snooze.

The blonde man looked at Thomas and thanked him, apologizing for the inconvenience. 

"It's nothing." Thomas replied. He then realized that this could be a moment to take advantage of. Stepping out from his comfort zone, he then asked out of the blue, "What's your name?"

"Newt Dawson." Newt responded. He then threw off his shoes and undid his jacket. "Y'know, it's a lot more hot after having a few drinks." He ran a hand threw his hair. "So, what's your name?"

"Thomas Bukater." Thomas said, finding it rather strange that Newt had to take his shoes off because he was supposedly hot. But perhaps it was something more common in the lower class. In the rich class, they never stripped themselves of anything else than a jacket or hat in public.

But what Newt did next had Thomas in surprise. Newt climbed onto the railing and threw his hands in the air, letting the wind run through his clothes. He took in a deep breath and looked back at Thomas who was gaping at him. "C'mon! Thomas! Try it!"

"Newt! That's dangerous!" Thomas gasped as he reached out and grabbed Newt's hand and pulled him back. Did becoming drunk really make you do these stupid things and put your life at the edge? Thomas had never been drunk before, but he did recall the time when his dad had gone a bit too far on his mother after a few drinks.

Newt lost his balance. He let out a yelp as his feet slipped off the railing and into the air. But Thomas lost his balance too in his attempt to pull Newt back, realizing that the man was actually far lighter than he estimated. He fell backwards, still holding onto Newt's hand.

And the next moment, Newt's body had landed on top of Thomas' as the black-haired male's back thumped on the deck.

Thomas felt his face grow hot as he felt Newt's unbelievable light weight pressing down on him. Newt pushed his hands on the floor and brought himself up, his body hovering over Thomas', in attempt to stand up.

But a gruff voice had interrupted that process, causing both of them to freeze.

"Thomas!"

And there, off to the side, stood Thomas' father, staring at the two in dismay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this chapter, I might be uploading chapters in pairs.


	5. Half-Drunk

In an instant, Newt threw himself off of Thomas. Telling by the man's physical appearance, he looked to be older so perhaps he could be Thomas' father or guardian. At least, someone who was protective of Thomas. And the man's next actions proved it.

The man stormed over to him and crossed his arms. Thomas got up on his feet and placed a hand on the man's arm, as if trying to hold him back. "Father, it's not what you think, I swear," his voice had a shake in it.

Newt tensed as Thomas' supposed 'father' grabbed him by shirt collar and pulled him in close. 

"This is the problem I've got with you fags," The man growled. He reeked of cigars. But the smell was different, perhaps a little more exquisite.

"Wait! Father, don't hurt or report him. It was all an accident!" Thomas attempted to pull his father away from Newt but he didn't budge.

"An accident, huh?" His father spat back at him. "This man is clearly drunk for one, I can smell it." His eyes then searched the floor. "He accidentally took off his shoes and jacket, did he?"

Newt didn't say anything. He knew it himself, he was mildly drunk. He didn't want to cause anymore trouble by accidentally saying or doing something that would only add to the trouble. At least, his mind was clear enough to make that rational decision.

Both Thomas and Newt knew, if the truth were to be told, there would be no way to believe it. The truth after all, did sound like a poor story itself told from a bad liar. There was no way to explain the shoes and jacket, considering that being right on the water gave the air a chilly wind.

Thomas' father threw Newt to the ground where he slammed onto the hard, wooden deck. "Where is Teresa?" He asked roughly. 

"She... She went back because it was too late," Thomas replied. He seemed to be stumbling for those simple words.

Newt had no idea who this Teresa was but he assumed she was someone Thomas was supposed to be with. Now, that had absolutely nothing to do with him.

"Thomas. Get inside and back to your room," The man ordered.

"Don't report this man. He meant no harm... I promise," Thomas begged.

"Make sure you never see him again. If he ever talks to you or even sets his eyes on you, report him immediately." 

"Yes father." And with that, Thomas left the deck with his father, leaving Newt behind. They shut the door behind them.

Newt felt relieved Gally wasn't questioned. Perhaps he just passed off as some sleeping bum who was just a mere bystander. Newt slipped on his shoes and collected his jacket, wondering what he was even thinking when he took them off. He didn't think he was that drunk... But a drunk man never knew.

He then shook Gally by the shoulder in attempt to wake him up, "Gally. Gally! Get up man!"

Gally let out a groan. He rolled a bit which caused him to fall right off the bench and slam his side onto the deck, hitting his head. Sure enough, that woke him up. "OW!"

Newt rolled his eyes and let out a slight chuckle. "You all good?" he asked.

"Hell am not!" Gally replied. He crawled up onto his knees, rubbing his head.

Newt held out a hand, in which Gally took, and gave him a boost to put him back on his two feet.

By the way Gally stood up, he seemed to be still, a little tipsy, but not as severe as before. Maybe a small nap did help a lot.

"What happened? Did I faint?" He asked.

Newt shook his head and grabbed his wrist. He guided him over to the stairs which would lead them down to the lower decks where they could enter back indoors. "Let's just get back shall we?" He didn't want to discuss what had happened while Gally was unconscious and certainly hoped none of it was witnessed.

 

Upon entering into their room, which consisted of 2 bunks, they were greeted by the stench of unwashed, sweaty men in the tight room. Boy, did the roommates sure smell horrendous for just two people. The room had no light so it was dark and cramped. They were lucky enough to get a window room so the moonlight snuck in. Newt and Gally had only met their roommates when they had settled their bags in the early morning so the couples weren't quite acquainted well yet.

"You were out for a while," a dark-skinned man said as Newt closed the door and tossed Gally onto his bottom bunk. His name was Frypan, which, in Newt's opinion, was much more strange than his own.

"Man, is Gally drunk? Where'd you get the money?" Another man, Jeff, asked.

Gally laid on his bed and didn't bother to answer. Newt climbed to his bunk, which was only a mere space from the ceiling. It was the reason why he had gotten the top bunk, size differences.

"Trade secrets," Newt responded.

"Aw c'mon! You gotta be kidding me!" Frypan shook his head. He seemed to always keep a smile on his face. Maybe he could be useful for emotional support as a friend.

Newt let out a deep breath as he laid flat on his bunk. He closed his eyes and shut out all other noises. He thought of Thomas. He wanted to apologize for what had happened. He felt at fault for acting silly whilst drunk and worried Thomas, which ended up getting both of them in an awkward situation. Although Newt knew Thomas wasn't allowed to see him again, he still felt an urge to go out and find him the next day where he would apologize and perhaps, make amends.

Newt also let out a small, silent chuckle to himself. It was quite the coincidence that he had gotten in such a situation with the man who he had drawn just a few hours earlier. He wondered where that sketch had gone now. Perhaps ripping apart in the salt water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey i made a twitter! @newtexe - where i just be myself and post updates so if you would like to contact me or just talk, find me there!


	6. Held Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On ao3, this chapter is one chapter. One wattpad, they're two separate chapters.

That night had been rough. But Thomas had managed to pull through. He had simply obliged to the orders of his father to head to his room and endured through the emitting anger. He hoped that Teresa was never found that night and actually returned at a time before the incident so his story would correlate by chance. It would save both of their asses.

By morning, Thomas had woken at 7AM sharp as usual to prepare for the day by dressing in a typical black and white suit. He pushed his black hair back with some hair spray and as always, checked himself in the mirror. 

Remembering last night, he grabbed the suit he had wore and pulled the sketch out from the pocket. He then hid it in a drawer of the vanity desk and opened the door to find his father waiting for him outside the room. Honestly, he was getting tired of having the first face to see all day to be his father's everyday. They greeted good morning to each other then went down the hall and went up the stairs to meet Teresa's family. 

At the table, Thomas bit his lip, hoping desperately that his father wouldn't bring up what had happened last night. He took a glance at Teresa who seemed to be perfectly fine, which might've been a good sign. She eyeballed him oddly, indirectly asking him what was up.

She scooted her chair next to his, which was inconsiderate to move away from others but she didn't seem to give a shit. She leaned in closer to him and muttered, "Thomas. Your face is very obviously nervous."

"Teresa, what time did you arrive back home?" He asked her.

"Around 10PM I think. Why?"

"Okay, good. I'll explain it later, maybe." Thomas felt relieved. He had arrived back later than her which meant the story had a chance of fitting together well. And now was the time he would find out if it did.

But his father's next words had the table quiet for a moment, "Last night, Thomas almost got assaulted by a low class fag."

Teresa widened her eyes at him.

Thomas didn't know how to respond. He wanted to defend Newt but that might create more controversy. His mind went into an internal war for a moment. And in the end, he didn't say anything. For the better.

"Oh my! Thomas, are you okay?" Teresa's mother asked, a hand on her chest. Typical rich people hand signs.

"Yes," Thomas responded. He felt an urge to say that nothing had happened but held it back.

"If any of you see a low class, skinny male with blonde hair and round eyes, avoid him. I couldn't see him so well in the dark but just avoid anyone who matches that description. He is dangerous." His father said. He then proceeded to say that the man had his shoes and jacket off and was found on top of his son.

Thomas felt a slight pain in his chest upon hearing those words. The use of the slur word had hit him personally too for he had not ever had an interest in girls, he had questioned himself in that sense. In truth, Thomas didn't know Newt very well. But something told him Newt was the opposite of a bad person. Perhaps it was the kind and somewhat cute face he wore that tricked him into thinking so.

The rest of the families members nodded in agreement. The table was tense. Thomas didn't take a bite of his food. From the way Teresa looked at him, it seemed that she could easily see through him. He wondered what she was thinking.

 

After breakfast, which Thomas eventually brought himself to politely finish his plate, he and Teresa were once again on the deck. Checking if any family member was nearby first, he then told her what was on his mind.

"Teresa. Would you believe me if I said what my father said wasn't true?"

Teresa looked at him, her kind, brown eyes showed she was listening, "Yeah, of course."

That confident response lifted a burden from Thomas. He let out a sigh as if releasing it away. "That guy... It was all a misunderstanding. I know what my father said sounded morbid. And what he had described was true. But it's all just an accident. You have to understand that." He hesitated a bit before adding on, "But it's hard to explain. Just trust me."

Teresa nodded, "Alright, don't worry about it." She gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Actually, I wanted to talk about something too."

"Oh, what is it?"

Teresa grinned a little. "Well... I'm not sure if it's just me. Or if I'm saying this too early, but I don't think this forced relationship is working out. Sorry to drop that bomb on you so suddenly."

Her words didn't come as a surprise. After all, Teresa seemed to have absolutely no interest in him for she'd rather hang out with her new friend than him. But, for some strange reason, it gave him a spark of hope. But hope for what exactly? He wasn't sure. And she was right, he didn't feel anything for her either. At least, nothing romantic. But deep down, he wanted to be her friend, he wanted to rely on her for emotional support. 

"I'm glad you think the same," Thomas said, "Let's keep that a secret though."

"Yeah, just... We might not be able to hold onto the act forever," Teresa replied. "That's what's worrying me."

"For now, let's play our parent's game and when the time comes, we'll figure it out," Thomas said with a shrug. He tried to play it off casually even though they both knew, this wouldn't be taken lightly by their families if ever found out.

"For now, friends?" Teresa asked with a grin.

Thomas smiled back at her. He felt satisfied, like he'd been waiting to hear those words. "Yeah, friends."

 

Teresa had left to find Brenda right after that promise, once again, leaving Thomas alone. He grinned to himself, glad that she could find some sort of happiness on this ship through their troubles. Whatever those troubles were, he hoped someday they would grow close enough to share them with each other. However, for him, he didn't have any company besides her. He wondered if he should join her and Brenda desperately or just talk to some guy on the deck.

Thomas took a scan at the other people on the deck. Mostly rich and middle class. The lower class typically hung out on the lower decks which had less sun, so he had heard. Personally, he didn't have a thing for trying to get along with the rich class for all they do is just drink tea and discuss family issues. But then hanging with someone of the lower class would be frowned upon and there was quite the stigma between both of them. His father had once told him that he ever talked to a lower class, he would be robbed. However, Thomas had not been robbed last night with Newt.

He wondered if he should try to find Newt and apologize for what had happened. But the ship was so large and Newt was probably in hiding after Thomas' father had threatened to report him upon seeing him once more. Newt came from the lower class so he wasn't likely to be found on the decks often. What did the lower class do to spend time? Thomas had no idea.

Bored out his mind, Thomas started to take a stroll down the deck and towards the doors. Perhaps he should just go back to his room and no one would notice. Not unless if Teresa was caught without him. 

And without warning, two hands grabbed his shoulders from behind and pulled him into a room. It had happened so suddenly, he didn't even have time to react properly. The door shut, the click of it echoed in the empty room which was well lit by the scattered windows. Thomas figured it was a room for special events but currently right now, there were no plans of it's use.

He shot his head around to take a look at who the person who had abducted him... to have his eyes meet directly with Newt's. Surprisingly, he felt relieved it was no other stranger. "Newt," he greeted.

Newt brought a hand up to his neck apologetically, "Thomas, I'm sorry for doing that so suddenly but I can't afford for anyone to see me with you."

"It's fine," Thomas said. He found it understandable but also a little strange. After all, this must've been planned. He then noticed another man standing in the corner. He recognized the face as the drunkard from last night. Gally, was his name?

"Anyways, I wanted to apologize for last night," Newt said. He had a hand on his hip and lifted up a heel. It must've been a pose he often struck by habit. 

"Yeah, man," Gally spoke, bringing himself next to Newt, "Sorry for the trouble I had caused. That must've been hella annoying." So maybe Gally did know what had happened last night. He wondered if his memory was pure or if Newt had to explain it to him.

"It's fine," Thomas replied, shaking his head. "Newt, it was partially my fault for overreacting in such a way..."

"No," Newt gave him a sincere look which was also casual at the same time. "It's completely my fault. I'd like to pay you back but I'm not sure how."

"Oh, I don't really need anything," Thomas said. "Don't worry about it." 

Gally let out a scoff, taking it in the wrong way. "Of course the rich boy doesn't need anything."

"Gally," Newt shot a look at him in warning. He then faced Thomas, "Well then, if that's the case, you're free to go."

"..." Thomas wasn't sure how to respond to that. For some reason, he didn't want to leave them. They seemed like chill guys. He knew it was forbidden to hang with Newt. He tried to bury the desperate wanting for friends. But just then, he remembered something.

"Wait," he said. He scrambled through his pockets which were empty. "Oh right, I left it in my room."

"Hm?" Newt rose a brow.

"Where you the one who drew Teresa and I the other day?" He asked, full of hope that he had pinpointed the right person.

"Was Teresa her name? Well then I suppose so. Did you see me doing it? That'd be terribly awkward," Newt crossed his arms, he let out a chuckle.

"No, I found it on the bench. I kept it," Thomas said, relieved that Newt really was the artist. What he said next was delivered awkwardly but it got the point across. "I wanted to say... That it was really good." 

"Oh? Thank you," Newt chuckled. "Unfortunately, I don't have my sketchbook with me right now but maybe sometime I could draw you... And actually finish it." 

Thomas wasn't sure if that was just friendly talk or an actual suggestion but he played along since deep inside, he hoped it would come true. "Yes, I'd love that!"

Newt grinned. He then looked at Gally, conveying some sort of secret message through his features. Gally shrugged back at him, as if saying he could care less. But there was some sort of smirk on his face. Thomas felt awkward watching the two communicate with each other this way. Must be nice having a close friend who didn't even need words to understand what you were saying.

Newt then turned his glance to Thomas before suggesting, "Actually, I was wondering if you have any plans right now? I'd like to start on it now if you're free." He rose a brow and corner of his lips was pulled upwards.

Unsure of how to react, Thomas just nodded a few times. "Uhm, sure. No, I don't have any plans," he replied with uncertainty. Half of a lie. He was supposed to be with Teresa but without her, he technically had nothing to do. Thomas had no idea what he was signing up for. His gut told him the two had different plans than a drawing session with the evident excitement they had on their face. 

"Great," Newt replied. He then headed for the door. Gally gestured to Thomas to go ahead, so he did. 

As Newt wrapped his fingers around the door handle, he flashed a smirk to Thomas. "It'll be fun, I swear."


	7. Drink n'Dance

Thomas didn't know how to feel about his new outfit. It was something he had never worn before, nor thought he'd have to one day. It smelled of a sweaty man who never used any sort of cologne, like it hadn't been washed for a week. The material was a itchy, it tickled a bit. And unlike the clothes he wore everyday, it was casual and loose. The feeling of the hot air brushed against his bare skin as the fabric swayed. 

There was no mirror, so he had no idea how he looked. But he figured, probably unrecognizable. While his makeup had not been removed, surely his parents would never set eyes on the face of someone who wore dirty clothes. Even his hair was undone out of it's style and put downwards. It was the perfect disguise. 

Thomas watched as Gally and Newt stood back from him, their eyes traveling up and down his body. Gally let out a laugh, "For some reason, he still doesn't look like one of us." Well, that contradicted Thomas' opinion. 

Newt grinned at Thomas. "Looking fine aren't you," he commented.

Thomas found himself growing shy at his words. It felt more genuine when he got a compliment from someone else other than his own dad. Even if he couldn't tell if it was joke or not. His lack of social gatherings halted his ability to read social cues to an extent. 

"Do you got a wallet on you? Gotta leave that behind," Gally said with his arms crossed.

Thomas did. It was hidden in the inner pocket of his blazer, carrying a sum of 100 value. Likely, if he carried it around in the lower decks, someone would snatch it from his hands without him even feeling the wind. Pickpocketing, something many of the lower class excelled at. Luckily for him, he only had that wallet with some money in it and none else of value. He didn't want to consider that Newt and Gally could take it if they were taking action to deceive him. But he didn't want to think about it. That would ruin the moment. It would be later, when he would find out.

"I do," said Thomas, having already put his trust in them. "It's in my blazer."

Newt grabbed the blazer off from Gally's bunk along with the rest of Thomas' clothes he had changed out of. He folded them up tightly and stuck them under the pillow of the top bunk, presumably his own. "I'll hide it up here," he said. "Jeff and Frypan wouldn't pry. It's unlikely it'll get stolen if hidden in here but if it does, nothing we can do about it."

Thomas didn't know how to reply to that. After all, he couldn't say that it was fine neither did he want to act as if he was worried for his money. In truth, 100 value wasn't much to him. But it must certainly meant a lot to Gally and Newt. All he could come up with was, "I understand."

"Alright, let's get a move, shall we?" Newt clapped his hands once and opened the door which led to the tight halls of the floor which held likely 100 or less rooms. Thomas felt more confident going out into the third class population than when he had come in. There was no way Gally and Newt were going to let him continue downstairs with the clothes he wore worth of 500 value altogether. He had to walk with his top off while Gally and Newt stayed close to him, trying to hide his dress pants. It had gone smoothly, but the amount of times Gally had bumped into Thomas well exceeded over 10 times. 

Now, Thomas wore a set of spare clothes belonging Gally since Newt was admittedly a size smaller in build. They still felt a bit uncomfortable but little of Thomas' clothes to start with were close to comfortable. And with ease, they made their way up a floor where the Poop Deck and more club rooms were.

Thomas still had no idea where he was going with these guys. They insisted on not telling him, to make it more of surprise. But even if it weren't a surprise, he still was going to be surprised. All of his new surroundings on the lower floors all came as foreign. He had never seen how the third class lived or how what they did in their spare time. The floor they currently were on had an abundance of passengers compared to the first class. Many of them smelled poorly or reeked of cigars. The smell came quite strong to Thomas since he wasn't used to it, but he figured the smell of 500 value perfume came as choking to these people. 

He was led to what looked like a tavern, or a bar. And boy, was it bombarded with people, mostly men. The smell of alcohol reeked, staining the air. The amount of shouting that filled the room was almost deafening. Noises mixed from cheers, table slamming, to clinking glasses. It was... lively.

Newt pushed through the crowd of men and straight to the counter in the back where the bartenders were located. Thomas hesitated to push through the larger men, to follow Newt's lead. But Gally just shoved him from behind, throwing him forward. 

Newt waved to a dark-skinned man who seemed to be popular among a group of people. He was surrounded by what appeared to be his friends or fans. He even had a lady by his side, she had a drink in her hands. "Alby!" Newt called out. "I got a new friend here."

Alby cut off his laughter from some joke he must've heard and raised a brow. "Oh?" He replied, "Tell me who in the third class I don't know."

"This is Thomas," Gally introduced, standing by Thomas' side. "Got some spare loot for three drinks?"

"Oi Thomas. You look pretty fine unlike this sweaty hunk you're next to," Alby joked. He was referring to Gally. And Gally didn't seem to give a shit. Thomas wondered if he looked too clean on his skin to blend in, if Alby noticed that.

"What's this loot?" He asked, raising his voice to be heard over the ruckus.

"Found a hunk of money from some trunk upstairs. I think some richie left it behind," Alby answered. Some young man with messy black hair, brown skin, and tired eyes hollered out from next to him, "Alby's rich now!"

Thomas forced some sort of laugh. He felt Newt's eyes on him, checking to see if there would be any reaction that would give him away.

"Well, now that that's settled," Gally said, seeming impatient. He then shouted to the bartender for three whiskies.

"All on me," said Alby proudly as he slid a few bills to the bartender who went off to pop open bottles.

There wasn't much room at the counter but somehow, Gally and Newt had pushed their way up to the front and managed to get their hands on it as if claiming territory. Newt then pulled Thomas forward, bringing him in to the counter. All of their sides touched, pressing to each other. Something Thomas definitely wasn't used to. And to his luck, he wasn't claustrophobic.

The bartender slid them three whiskies in glasses. Newt and Gally immediately took theirs. Thomas watched as Gally put his head back and chugged it down all in one go. Some people applauded him. He slammed the empty glass down with a  _CLUNK_  and threw his hands into the air. Newt took casual drinks from his, not being so reckless like Gally. But he still had a considerate amount. At least, compared to what Thomas was used to seeing.  _'Slowly drink! Slowly eat! That way you can taste your own food!'_  his mother had scolded at him once. And so, Thomas was a rather slow consumer. He wondered if Newt and Gally could actually taste what they were drinking or if they were doing it for the sake of drinking alcohol.

"C'mon!" Newt nudged Thomas, encouraging him. "It's not gonna hurt."

Thomas brought the glass up to his lips and took in a sip. The strong, bitter taste had him wince. Newt let out a laugh and patted him on the back. "You'll get used to it," he remarked.

And sure enough, eventually he did.

What felt like an hour later, Thomas had finished two whole glasses of whiskey. He then called for another. But it wasn't the taste that drew him in, it was the act of drinking itself. He felt free of his problems, careless of whatever was happening around him. The bar had gotten louder, no words were clearly audible unless if Newt or Gally screamed in his ear. The bartender passed another drink. He chugged down half of it immediately. 

Until he realized Newt was no longer by his side. He shot his head around in search of the man... To find him kicking his feet on top of a table, jumping around and throwing his hands in the air. A crowd had gathered around him, clapping their hands as the live band on the side strummed their acoustics. He was dancing.

Thomas' jaw dropped at the sight. Across more tables around the tight bar, people were doing the same reckless thing. Even a couple was skipping at the edge of a table with their arms linked.  _What the hell is happening?_

Newt made eye contact with him. His hat still hadn't fallen off. He extended a hand and gestured him to come on the stage. Thomas shyly shook his head, waving the idea off. But Newt gave him some sort of glare. He pointed at Thomas to a man who reached for him and pulled him forward into the crowd. Newt reached out and grabbed Thomas, pulling him up onto the table.

"C'mon! Don't be a party loser, have some fun!" Newt chanted. He then threw a couple of dance moves that were a little neater than what the other dancers were preforming. He grabbed Thomas' hand.

Thomas looked out around him. People. So many people. All of their eyes were on him. Newt was clearly drunk, but so was everyone else. Perhaps no one would recall this a couple of hours later. Thomas tangled his fingers in Newt's and they galloped across the table. Newt rose their hands and spun Thomas' body. The bar became a blur for a moment, then he felt Newt's hand supporting his back, pressing onto it. Their faces were close.

The audience cheered. Thomas felt his face grow hot. A rush of adrenaline took over his body as he threw off his shoes and started to kick his feet around, throwing his hands off to his side. Newt took a hand, pulling them together, and they danced. Off to the side, Gally took what could've been his 8th shot.

Yes, Thomas was drunk. He knew this. But he didn't care. He was having the time of his life. He completely disregarded the elegant dance moves he had to learn when he was younger, the dance moves where you had to hold a girl gently. Newt's grip on him was sweaty and rough. But he loved it. 

They embraced themselves into the live music, the clapping audience, and the shouting. Their bodies spun, carefree. And this lasted what could've been the whole night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> might recognize this straight from the movie..!


	8. Sweet Trick

Thomas was drunk. Newt knew that. He was even aware that he, himself was also drunk. But he knew how to manage it (sort of) from experience— which he solemnly swore to never live over again. But Thomas on the other hand had never experienced drinking so much alcohol at once before. And surely, he was living it. But he couldn't come to realize that reality also existed out of the delirious state of mind.

Newt had brought Thomas back to his room not long ago (luckily, the other two roommates still weren't back) where Thomas changed back into his clothes and retrieved his wallet back. From there, they had made a dash up the flights until they had gotten up to the middle class deck. And running came as no problem to Thomas since he was so fulfilled with energy. And as for Gally, he stayed in the bar and probably will for a while— likely until he passed out.

Newt held onto Thomas, who had his arm around his shoulders, as he guided Thomas up the stairs which were now less crowded being a couple of hours past midnight. Thomas stumbled, almost falling flat on his face. Luckily Newt had a hand on his chest, keeping him upwards. When they had reached the top of the stairs that led to the middle class floor deck, Newt pushed Thomas onto a bench where he also sat and let out a hefty sigh. 

He hated to admit that he was pretty experienced with handling drunk people, especially Gally. Thomas, all woozy, couldn't walk straight nor did he seem to want to stop singing. Newt had decided to take the staircase located on the decks so the sound of rushing water and wind would cover for Thomas' voice. Plus, there were significantly less people outside. Though it wasn't empty, there were only a couple of men out to smoke.

Thomas rested his head back and took in a deep breath of the salty, fresh air. "I had a good time, tonight," he said. "I don't want it to end." Parts of his words slurred together as if he was begging.

Newt just looked at him and shrugged. "Nothing we can do about it. You have to return back at some point." Then he muttered to himself: "Which will be a torturous challenge..." He knew entering onto the high class floor was forbidden (for him especially). That put him in a spot of an internal war between what the hell was right and what was wrong. He wanted to escort Thomas back to his room safely but he knew the risks of that.

Thomas let out a note, it carried off into the wind. He wasn't the best at singing but boy can this boy dance to a beat. He then let out an exaggerated sigh. "I drank too much. I drank too much, I smell like alcohol and smoke. My dad's gonna  _kill_  me."

No doubt he's screwed. "Don't worry about it," said Newt. "We can sneak you back. All you have to do is be silent along the way."

"No no," Thomas replied. He looked at Newt with worried eyes. "You  _can't_  go on any further. It's dangerous."

"Not like you didn't risk yourself today either," Newt commented with a chuckle.

"Let's just wait out here 'till morning," Thomas suggested. "I can just say I fell asleep in the public bathroom." Actually not a bad idea. But the idea of it was absolutely disgusting.

"No," said Newt. He lifted himself up, his legs felt drained. The wind blew through his messy hair, it pushed at his hat. He looked down at Thomas who had his legs apart and eyes closed as he leaned back against the bench. He grabbed Thomas' hand and pulled him up forcibly. "C'mon, We need to get going."

Thomas stumbled on his feet as if they went numb, he clung to Newt with both hands gripping onto his shoulders. Immediately after, he recovered by placing one forwards and one back. "Sorry," he muttered.

"It's fine," Newt replied. "Can you walk on your own now?"

"Should be able to."

Just then, a female voice sounded over the rushing water. "Thomas?"

Newt looked back to see a pretty young woman with straightened, but messy, black hair. Telling from her simple yet fancy clothes, she came from the rich class. But there was no reason for a lady of her status to be on the lower decks, she must've been looking for Thomas.

Thomas whipped his head back. "Teresa!" he gasped. Immediately, he let go of Newt. Though that didn't serve any purpose since she had already seen it clearly. 

"Where've you been?" she asked curiously, but there was also a hint of worry. "I was about to go back but then your father said you weren't back yet so I just said I was going to redo my hair and meet up with you again later. I've been looking for you!"

"Teresa, I need your help to get back," Thomas said with a sudden hitch in his voice halfway through. "I might've— I drank too much."

Now Newt could tell what was going on. Clearly, Thomas was supposed to be with Teresa. But for some unknown circumstances, he wasn't. Though it seemed they got along just fine. Newt crossed his arms and took a step back.

Teresa's eyes widened upon hearing Thomas' response. She threw her hands off into the air at her sides. "Drank too much?! You've got to be joking..." Then, she bit back a snicker.

 "I wish I was." Thomas nervously laughed with her. His eyes went to Newt for a moment, then quickly back to her.

Teresa looked at Newt and rose a brow. "Let me guess— he's the one?"

Both Thomas and Newt knew exactly what Teresa meant by that. 'The one' referred to the fag predator Thomas' father had caught right in action, just in the nick of time to save his own son. Though Newt couldn't tell how Teresa felt about it, if she viewed him as such the monster he was said to be.

Thomas grinned and nodded at her. In reaction, Teresa let out a laugh— an unmannerly one unexpected of the rich (to Newt, at least). Didn't they follow rules and social standards? Clearly, neither Thomas nor Teresa seemed to live the stereotypes. She waved a hand in the air, the other one holding her stomach. "This man?! A predator? What's with your father?"

Newt let out a snicker. "Glad to know you're on board with me." He then let out a hand. "Name's Newt. Newt Dawson."

She took his hand. "Teresa Agnes. Quite the prince charming name you have there, Newt." In response, Newt simply nodded at her. She then turned to Thomas and shook her head in disappointment. "You reek of a party. I'll help you get back from here. But I need you to play along with the plan I have in mind, okay?"

Thomas nodded in agreement. "Yeah, thanks." He then faced Newt apologetically. "Newt, I'm sorry for being a burden just now. I had a lot of fun tonight."

Newt clicked his tongue and gave his friend a pat. "Don't worry about it. So did I. Now, you should get going. Good luck for the rest of the way." He felt an urge to give more than just a pat. Perhaps a friendly goodbye hug instead. But with Teresa there, he didn't want to make a show. Well, at least he didn't just go for a high-five. Thomas didn't seem like the type who knew when to return a slap anyways.

Thomas finished their night off with a "good night." And with that, he disappeared up the stairs with Teresa.

 

* * *

 

"Down this one here," Thomas said as he gestured Teresa down an empty hallway which had a few doors on each side. He walked slowly, maintaining a composure in which he wasn't drunk. He spoke little, unsure of how he actually sounded to someone sober. Teresa had a hand in his, intertwining their fingers tightly. Though one could see it as affectionate, she definitely was just trying to keep him in balance. 

Making their way down a hallway, he realized that his mother and father's room door was open slightly. He heard their voices leaking through. With his hearing a bit distorted, he couldn't tell what they were talking about. But nonetheless, the plan had to be put in action now.

Teresa looked up at him. They nodded at each other, giving a signal. 

She started forcefully giggling, which was surprisingly convincing. Her hand ran up his chest as she pressed her body closer to his side, leaning her head against his shoulder. Thomas slipped his hand around her waist, nervously at first when his fingers touched the tight fabric outlining her figure.

They then proceeded to prance down the hallway together. They shot smiles at each other, giving the impression that they were infatuated under the same spell.

As they reached the door to Thomas' room, which was close enough to his parent's, Teresa let out a sigh. "I had a really good day with you, Thomas," she said with a sweet voice.

"Me too," Thomas replied. He wondered if his parents were listening in to them right now, it would be ideal if they were. He unlocked his room and opened his door with a click. "And I assure you, I can make the night even more special for you." He felt his whole face grow red as the words slipped from his mouth. He felt embarrassed from head to toe, his whole body must've blushed.

Teresa almost burst out into a laugh but she choked it back. She fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Oh, Thomas... show me."

And with that, they entered into his room and Thomas slammed it closed behind them. Now the two were alone in the silence of his room. Thomas let out a sigh. But Teresa slammed her body against the door, making a  _thump_  sound.

"What was that for?" Thomas asked.

Teresa grinned. "For more  _effect_ , y'know. Wait— your whole face is red!" She then let out the laughter she had contained for the past few seconds.

Thomas looked off to the side, embarrassed. "It's nothing, I swear." He then brought himself away from her and grabbed a fresh set of night clothes. "Now, I have to clean up before I stink up the whole room. Excuse me."

 

The two laid on the bed in the darkness, they had created a barrier in the middle with pillows. Thomas had been courteous enough to let her sleep on the comfort of the bed instead of the couch. He faced away from her, and likely, she was facing away from him. The silence of the night was a little... too silent for him. Perhaps it was the aftermath of coming from a boisterous setting. 

Thomas shifted his position a bit, placing his hands in front of his chest. He let out a sigh, thinking of Newt. What was he doing right now? Could be still living the night with Gally? A part of Thomas didn't want that thought to be true. 

"Thomas? Are you awake?" Teresa's hushed voice broke the silence. 

"Yeah," Thomas replied. 

"Mind if I ask— how did you end up spending the night... the way you did?"

As in, how did he end up partying in a bar with a lower class man. Honestly, Thomas had no idea how it had happened either. Long story short: "Newt tricked me. He told me that he was just going to draw me or something and instead, brought me to a bar." It was after he said it, he realized how ridiculous it sounded.

"Now if that doesn't scream predator," Teresa teased.

"I trust him," Thomas said. "He's not a bad guy, I promise."

"It's interesting that you trust this man so much after a day to get drunk with him," she replied.

That hit Thomas like a rock to his heart. He came to realize the absurdity of it. That he barely knew Newt and yet, he had been so naïve about it. Either he was really stupid or Newt was a master of deception. He was probably just extremely daft.

"What about you?" Thomas asked in attempt to change the subject. "Where have you been disappearing to?"

"With Brenda," she replied. And after a moment of hesitation, she suggested: "Maybe you should meet her. She's really funny and energetic. Sort of tomboyish. And unlike your boyfriend, she's confirmed not a pred—"

"He's not my boyfriend!" Thomas interrupted her in his defense. Though he knew it was joke, he couldn't help but for his face to grow hot.

Teresa snickered. She brought the focus of the conversation back to him once again smoothly. "So, tell me. How was the bar down there like?"

Thomas talked about how extremely lively it was. How horrible it smelled. But also, how much fun he had blending in with the common folk. And of course, he didn't leave out dancing on the table— the best part. He was sure his voice rose in excitement as he spoke, but he didn't care. Teresa even mentioned that she wouldn't mind to try it out, which made Thomas brighten up a bit inside. After another few minutes of chatter, they both fell silent. Thomas smiled to himself. Tonight, he had felt much closer to Teresa than before. That now, they were actually friends.

As for Newt, Thomas had no idea if they were actually friends. It could've all been just one sweet trick to a devious plan Newt could have to rob him of his money. If that was the case, it surely was working. But for now, Thomas liked to believe Newt was a genuine friend too.


End file.
